


Bloodbeat

by rosepetaled



Category: Reservoir Dogs (1992)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Gun Violence, Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-19 05:11:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16528037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosepetaled/pseuds/rosepetaled
Summary: Based off of flowerdeluce's prompt found in her Yuletide letter: "Extension of Freddy freaking out in the backseat. Larry pulls over, gets in with him and calms him down". Also known as the first time Larry tells Freddy his real name.





	Bloodbeat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flowerdeluce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerdeluce/gifts).



> Hola flowerdeluce! I hope you enjoy this! This is one of my favourite movies of all time so I hope I do it (and your prompt) justice!

Larry had never seen so much blood in his life. He had never really payed attention to people who complained about the smell. It wasn’t something he ever picked up on, wasn’t something that kept him up at night like some people complained about, but there was something about Mr. Orange’s blood that had him wanting to gag. Not because it was disgusting or that he was pissed Orange got blood all over Larry’s hand – but because it was a reminder of how badly Larry had fucked up. There was an ache in Larry’s chest, like something was in him, pushing against his bones, his heart, squeezing at him with a harsh grip. It got worse whenever he took in some air, sharp and painful in his throat, the smell of blood clogging up his nose and mind.

   
It had taken a while for Mr. Orange to calm down, his cries fading away and his legs no longer flailing, but that didn’t last for long. His high-pitched voice soon picked up again, laced in panic and fear, and it was getting harder and harder for Larry to drive without crashing.

“Fuck me,” muttered Larry, eyes on the rear-view mirror, taking in the sight of Orange and his blood-covered suit. “Fuck, buddy, come on. We’re almost there. Gonna get you help, don’t you believe me? You can hang in there, come on!”

   
“I’m dying, I’m fucking dying! I’m gonna die in this fucking car, I’m gonna die right here, fucking _Christ_!” screamed Orange, a sob leaving him.

  
“Didn’t we go through this already? You losing your fucking memory back there, kid?” grumbled Larry. Orange didn’t let out any words and instead filled the car up with a loud, gut-wrenching cry, making Larry cling onto the steering wheel even harder. It was painful to hear that shit.

  
“I can’t fuckin’ die here! I can’t!”

  
“Fuck it,” Larry snapped, pulling onto the side of the road, tires screeching and loud honks behind him. He didn’t have time to turn his blinker on, didn’t have any time to fuck around at all, not when Orange was in the backseat literally bleeding to death. “I’m coming, buddy, I’m coming!” cried out Larry, and with stumbling feet he made his way to the back seat. He was opposite Larry, knees against the floor of the car as he gripped Orange’s hands again. “I’m here, I’m here. Stop that, now. I already told you you’re not gonna die!”

  
Orange rolled his eyes before wincing. “Don’t let me die. Please don’t let me die,” Orange’s voice suddenly lowered. “Please, I’m fuckin’ begging you, don’t let me die.”

  
Gripping his hand tighter, Larry sat up, his eyes on Orange’s stomach. He couldn’t see the entire wound, but Orange’s once-white shirt had been torn enough for Larry to make out the sight of the wound. Larry let out a loud sigh at the sight of red and pink and white, his free hand trailing up to grip one of Orange’s thighs, giving the other man a tight squeeze.

  
“What makes you think I’m gonna let you die, huh? What makes you think I’d let something like that happen to you?” murmured Larry.

  
“Don’t even know you… Don’t even know your fucking name!” cried out Orange, banging his head against the window behind him.

  
Larry knew it wouldn’t take much persuasion for him to let out that secret. “Is that what this is all about? You cryin’ over not knowing my fucking name, huh?” chuckled Larry. It was probably the worst time to make any kind of joke, but he was desperate for a change in Orange. He wanted that calm, wide-eyed Mr. Orange back, the one with the slight, shy smile. “It’s Larry. My name’s Larry. Not that exciting, not all that sexy. Still good, though, right? A nice, solid name, eh? Don’t you think? Larry’s got a nice ring to it. Sounds a lot better than Mr. White. You agree? Larry White… Kinda rhymes with Barry White. You think I got a better voice than Barry White?” he asked with a low chuckle.

  
“Jesus Christ,” Orange shook his head with laugh. “What the fuck are you going on about?”

  
“I don’t fuckin’ know, buddy, I was just trying to get you to calm down. Did it work? Should I give you more shitty, terrible jokes?”

  
“I think the Barry White joke was more than enough,” said Orange with a small chortle, his bloody, messy hand running over his face.

  
It was nice to see Orange so calm, thought Larry. A sigh of relief left his lips as he eyed the other man, his eyes no longer narrowed and his breathing somewhat steady. There was chaos in the backseat, blood everywhere, all over the leather, all over Larry’s suit, but none of that mattered.

  
“You good now, kid? You okay?” muttered Larry, his hand out, pressing it against one of Orange’s cheeks. His thumb grazed at the skin, hot and sweaty and sticky and bloody. Orange had looked away, his head against the car seat, but Larry needed to see him, needed to see those big, wide eyes. “Hey, buddy, answer me. Look at me. I need you to look at me, keep those eyes on me. Don’t shut ’em.”

  
Orange coughed and winced, his hands pressing against his wound. “Fuck me, never been in so much pain in my life.”

  
Larry didn’t want anything more than to take away Orange’s pain at that moment. He settled for trying to ease it, his hands quick to yank off his suit jacket, bundling it up messily before pressing it against the sight of pooling blood. “I’m sorry, kid, I’m sorry. Gonna take care of you, though, I promise. Gonna get you out of this fuckin’ mess if it’s the last thing I do.”

  
“It fuckin’ _burns_ , Larry. Can feel it everywhere, my whole body, not just my stomach,” whimpered Orange. Orange ran a hand along Larry’s cheeks softly and weakly, his arm falling limp and landing in his lap.

  
He had calmed down, that much was for sure, but Larry was certain that little whine Orange had just let out hurt a lot more than all the loud, almost deafening screams that were filling up the car earlier. “I’m so sorry,” was all Larry could mutter, guilt hitting him, his chest aching at the weak sound of Orange’s voice.

  
“It’s not… Oh shit, it’s not your fault,” winced Orange. “Just please don’t let me die. Look me in the eyes and promise me that’s not gonna happen. Larry, you can’t… You can’t…”

  
It was awkward and uncomfortable, but Larry managed to shift his body so he was closer to the bleeding man. He was slow and cautious, making sure not to hurt Orange any more, but also making sure he kept his jacket on the wound. Orange needed a little bit more comfort and assurance it seemed, and Larry was more than happy to provide that.

  
Their wet, hot foreheads met a moment later. Orange let out a weak, shaky sigh, one hand coming up to touch Larry’s neck, soft fingers rubbing into the exposed skin. Larry was breathing heavily, heart skipping a beat when Orange gave him the smallest of smiles. If Larry had blinked he was certain he would have missed it.

  
“I’m looking you in the eyes, kid. I am not going to let you die. Absolutely not. That’s not something I’d ever let happen to you. Gonna get you help, gonna get you some top quality shit. You’ll be walking tomorrow. You’ll be _dancing_ tomorrow, you hear me?” whispered Larry. “You gonna dance for me?”

  
Orange snorted before nodding. “Yeah, I’m gonna fuckin’ dance for you. Put on some Barry White and I’ll give you a show.”

  
Larry whistled softly. “That a promise?”

  
“Yeah, yeah, that’s a promise. Just get my ass outta here.”

  
“You good now? You okay? I can’t have you panicking on me again like that. I can’t have you… Can’t have you screaming and crying in my ear. Please,” replied Larry, eyes shutting as he spoke. He didn’t want to tell Orange that he didn’t want to hear those cries and screams because it hurt too damn much to hear, so he settled with his vague response.

  
“Mm, yeah, I’m fuckin’… I’m okay, just please….” Mr. Orange nodded weakly to the front seat.

  
“I’m on it,” Larry nodded quickly, stumbling out of the car and shutting the door with his leg. He was just as quick to get back into the front seat, rubbing his hands on his pants to remove the slippery feeling of blood and sweat. “Hang in there, kiddo. You’ll be seein’ a doctor in no time.” Larry watched Orange smile weakly in response, his hand pressing against his wound even harder.

  
With the distinct stench of blood in the air, Larry sped down the street, heart beating faster than he ever thought possible. He had somewhere to be – and he planned on Orange keeping his promise.


End file.
